The tomatoes do not grow at the supermarket
When I was a child I would hide under the bed of the grandparents' house, to
avoid hearing the cries of the pig that was killed.
Even today in areas where I was born still survives the traditionally kill of the pig in house,
a custom that now is remained to a past generation. I decided to come back as a photographer
on an old childhood fear, putting
myself in front to what actually happens quietly hidden behind the butcher's refrigerator.
"My niece thinks that tomatoes are born at the supermarket," says a lady while I shooting the
photos, "Send me the photos to Rome so I can show to her!"
Me and the guys of my areas know that we are not able to carry on this tradition, daughter of old
needs, and at the dinner with the grandparents we realize the good fortune to
have acquired consciousness that behind a good steak, there is a death and a sacrifice
that must be respected.
